Chapter Four #2
In good time, the auction started with an austere older gentleman in charge.
In a nasally voice, he explained about each volume and book, or sometimes a small box full of journals, and then he opened the bidding for everyone.
It was such a fascinating process that Charlotte forgot about the earl, for the whole of her attention was on the auctioneer and the items he wished to sell.
However, at no point did she catch a glimpse of the duke.
That was a bit of a disappointment, since she’d never met a duke before.
Midway through the auction, the man in charge announced a quarter hour break. That was when the attendees mingled in the room or sought out refreshments at a table in the back of the room. Just as she took her first sip of punch, someone came up behind her.
“Hello again, Miss Primrose.”
Her heartbeat accelerated, and as she turned around, her gaze landed on the earl. “What a pleasure to meet you. I thought you’d changed your mind about coming since I didn’t see you before.”
“Though I was running a bit behind schedule today, I’m here now. Has there been anything worth buying come to light?”
“Not particularly.” She shrugged. “However, I did secure a first edition signed by Jane Austen herself that I’m quite excited about.”
“Lovely find. You’ll claim it at the end of the auction?”
“I will. That’s what it says in the pamphlets that were passed out at the start of it.
” She couldn’t help but rake her gaze up and down his person.
Since he stood a good seven inches over her short height, she had to angle her neck to meet his gaze, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
“Are you looking for a particular volume?”
“Let’s just say that I’ll know it when I see it.” But his grin didn’t reflect in his green eyes. They were much like jewels when shafts of sunlight came into the room. “Come. The second half will begin soon.” He took the glass from her hand and then drained the remainder of the punch from it.
“Cheeky.”
“Perhaps.” After setting the glass on the table, he put a hand to the small of her back and escorted her toward the groupings of chairs. “But then, I can only be who I am.”
Heat went through her cheeks. She said nothing when he guided her to a chair in the last row.
Potted ferns were on her right side while the earl sat on her left.
No one else sat in their row. The scent of his shaving soap or cologne was far too distracting.
With every breath she took, she caught whiffs of the cedarwood and citrus notes.
They sat in silence as the auctioneer returned to his podium and began the second half of the event.
Book after book was shown and bid upon, broken up with a few boxes of journals and personal diaries from people she’d never heard of before. It didn’t matter; having the earl’s presence beside her, so close that his shoulder brushed hers, was quite distracting anyway.
At some point, Wolcott rested a gloved hand on her knee. Charlotte froze, for she didn’t know what to do, but when he moved his fingers upward to her thigh and caressed it, she worked to quickly stifle any sort of sound.
A glance to his face showed a faint grin but not much else.
Then she looked about the room. No one paid them the slightest mind, for all eyes were riveted to the auctioneer as he talked about another book he held up, some dense volume done in Latin.
Slowly, oh so slowly, the earl drew his hand upward to brush his fingers along the apex of her thighs.
This time, she did gasp, and he withdrew his touch, but only slightly, for he slipped an arm along the back of her chair.
“What are you playing at, Lord Wolcott?” she managed to whisper while the auctioneer continued his speech.
The earl put his lips to the shell of her ear and said in a barely audible tone, “Teasing you. Seeing how much you’ll let me get away with before slapping my face.”
Should she do exactly that and then leave in high dudgeon? It’s what her mother would do. However, as shocking as what he did was, she rather enjoyed the gooseflesh that had raced over her skin. “Oh, well, I think—”
“Damnation,” he muttered, interrupting her thought.
“What?”
“That book.” He gripped his fingers on her shoulder. “I told you I’d know it if I saw it, and that’s the one.” All the color had drained from his face.
The auctioneer glowered at the book he held.
“I honestly don’t know how this became mixed in with the others, but this is supposedly an erotic bit of non-fiction by an unknown author who claims to be a mistress.
She lists three men in the book and one of them died of suspicious circumstances.
Of course, none of the men are referred to by name, exactly, but there are more than enough clues that a reader could puzzle out the identities. ”
“Shit,” the earl whispered. Hints of ruddy color rushed up his neck and stained his cheekbones.
“Oh!” Charlotte gasped. She kept her gaze on him. “Does that mean you are mentioned in that book?”
“I would imagine so. The bitch had it published after all, did she?” He shook his head as the auctioneer announced the opening bid. “Now I’ll have to bid on it. I wonder how many copies there are…”
As if Wolcott hadn’t spoken, the auctioneer continued. “Apparently, there were only three copies printed, and the lady owns one of them. The second one is here, but no one knows where the other one is. For now.”
“Well then, at least one of us should make a bid,” Charlotte said with a small grin as she met his gaze. “Don’t you think?”
“Ha.” He nodded. “I wish you luck.”
The bidding was fierce, not only between them, but in the room in general. Oddly, she wanted that book both for the content—which she would hide from her mother—and to read about what the mistress had said about the earl. For research purposes, of course.
Though she raised her hand a couple of times, she hadn’t the pocket money to compete with the other bidders. Especially the earl, and he was quite determined. Guests began to leave shortly after that.
After a spirited ten minutes, eventually Wolcott won the book. Too bad he paid dearly for that copy. Nearly a thousand pounds, in fact. She was both appalled and admiring of what he’d done to apparently keep his secrets.
Finally, the auction was over. Both Charlotte and the earl spoke with the clerk for the auction in order to claim their books.
As he strode toward the ballroom door with his book clutched tightly in his hand, she trotted after him, for his legs were much longer than hers.
“Please wait, Lord Wolcott.” When he huffed but paused at the door, she caught up with him.
“Congratulations on your win.” She pushed the spectacles onto the bridge of her nose.
“If you don’t mind, I would very much like to browse the pages of that book. ”
“I rather think you’ll find it boring and disappointing reading, if it’s not outright a lie.”
“That matters not to me, because the true value of a book is determined by the individual reader. Since there are no reviews on this particular volume, I’d like to form my own opinion.”
“On me or the book?” One of his eyebrows rose.
Heat went through her cheeks. “Both?”
His expression lightened slightly. “Fair enough.” When he met her gaze, confusion clouded his eyes. “Would you be interested in coming driving with me? Perhaps we’ll go to Hyde Park. The weather is fair for once. We should take advantage of that.”
“What?” Surprise made her eyes widen, and her heartbeat accelerated. “All right. That sounds quite fun, and I’ve never been driving in Hyde Park.” Besides, she was quite curious about him as well as that book. How bad could it be since they’d be in a very public place?
“Excellent.” He offered her his arm, and when she tentatively put her gloved fingers through the crook of his elbow, he led her from the ballroom.